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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429764">Uncertain Times</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mionemrys/pseuds/Mionemrys'>Mionemrys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Real Person Fiction, Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF, two set violin, twoset violin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>COVID-19, Classical Music, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Domestic Fluff, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inner Dialogue, Living Together, M/M, Meant To Be, Moving In Together, Musicians, Mutually Unrequited, Pre-Slash, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn, We Just Love Each Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:40:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429764</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mionemrys/pseuds/Mionemrys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>April, 2020 - In order to keep their YouTube channel afloat, Brett and Eddy decide to share an apartment during the coronavirus outbreak.</p><p>I apologise in advance if I over-romanticising the action of playing the violin, but don't we all?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddy Chen &amp; Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The New Normal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <cite>It was the best of times, it was the worst of times;<br/>
it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness;<br/>
it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity;<br/>
it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness;<br/>
it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.</cite>
</p><p>
  <cite>― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities</cite>
</p><p>It all goes back to March the 22nd. On that day, the daily new cases of coronavirus in Australia increased by 537. Unprecedented. Point of inflexion.</p><p>In the next ten days, the total number of cases increased by more than three thousand. Even in Queensland, the cases increased to 781. According to the exponential nature of a pandemic, the number in Queensland will surpass a thousand in no time. The spiking numbers put everyone's life in a shadow, including our most beloved comic violin duo, Brett and Eddy.</p><p>Truth to be told, Brett and Eddy haven't been seeing each other for five days in a roll now. They have decided to take a break since they'd already filmed a bunch of videos that would last at least a week. Ever since the outbreak, Eddy and Brett are stocking videos every time they see each other, just like how people are hoarding toilet paper and instant noodles as if they're out of their minds.</p><p>The last time they filmed, five days ago, was one of those insanely intense sessions that almost gave them flashbacks of their early days, busking 24/7 on the street for their first live concert. During that day, they've fulfilled a checklist of 10 video ideas in the span of 7 hours with barely any breaks in between. Youtube, TikTok and Instagram photos were all been taken care of.</p><p>At the end of the day, our two drained, used-to-play-professionally-but-now-making-videos violinists decided to never do this again. Holding takeaway bubble tea in their weakened hands, they allowed themselves to sink as deep as they could into the couch, paralysed.</p><p>"Dude," at least an hour of paralysis later, Brett broke the silence first, "at this rate, our exhaustion is going to take us long before coronavirus."</p><p>"Ah...yeah," Eddy stretched his arms, yawning "it's no longer classical music and chill."</p><p>"How did it come to this?" Brett asked nonchalantly, with his body still curled on the couch.</p><p>"I don't know. Are we just panic filming instead of panic buying?"</p><p>"Oh, dude. At least our paranoia is keeping the channel afloat, not creating a price raise on toilet rolls." Brett laughed dryly, still not recovered from the tiredness.</p><p>---</p><p>Flash forward to now, 5 days later after that devilish filming session. Eddy Chen, now idly sitting on the couch with his hand on the forehead, is scrolling on Instagram nonchalantly. It is 3 pm in the afternoon, and he's waiting for the final version of today's video from Editor-san. After the editing process, Eddy would review it together with Brett over the phone, and then upload it to their social media platform.</p><p>It is already half-way into autumn in Brisbane. The sun beaming through the windowpane, casting warmth on the carpet in front of him. If Eddy lifts his head up, he'd see the garden bathed in golden sunlight. Autumn in Australia has always been quite beautiful; the trees are ever so luxuriant in Brisbane. Shades of emerald, maroon and saffron emanating from interlaced layers of leaves; colours glistening and mingling together like an Impressionist painting (or like a visualisation of non-functional harmonies that blurs the lines of tonality, as Eddy would describe it). People would stay on the lawn for picnics with their family, filling the air with joy and laughter. Though no one ever does that now in 2020 - when people have to walk across a lawn, they'd be wearing a mask and dashing past very quickly. The world is too quiet right now to bring solace to all the people hoping to get some second-hand sunshine behind a transparent window; the entire population is more or less damned.</p><p>The email notification coming from Eddy's laptop interrupted his tangled train of thoughts: it's Editor San sending them the google drive link for their new video.</p><p>In other words, it's time to call Brett.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Future Ascending</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Eddy opened up their newest video and called Brett, who picked up almost immediately.</p><p>"Hey."</p><p>"Hey, Brett, what are you doing?"</p><p>"Not much. Still tired from our last shooting session to be honest," Brett sounds as impassive as usual, if not more, "and my screen time this week is increased by 30%."</p><p>"Yeah, same. Nothing ever happens outside of our screens now. I've even been rewatching some Naruto episodes the other day."</p><p>The conversation strayed here and there for a bit before they hit "play" of their new video together. It came out just fine. Their editor-san, who, oddly, lives not in Eddy's basement but on the other side of Brisbane, is still as sassy as they are professional. Plus, who doesn't love watching them young, accomplished classical musicians beaten by a <strike>normie</strike> game called Piano Tiles? Seeing them clumsily hitting their phone screen while complaining about their eyes getting dry, the audience (most of them have higher scores in Piano Tiles as well) would either chortle at their ineptitude, or lament that these boys have spent too much time practising in the past without discovering the joy of silly iphone games.</p><p>Normally, Eddy and Brett would be sitting together when all the reviewing and publishing happens. But special times require special measures, and they are, of course, still in-sync enough to operate remotely. Laughing and bantering over the phone, all their channels are updated in no time.</p><p>"Alright. That's it done then. What else are you up to for the rest of today?"</p><p>"Uh...I'm not sure. Probably going to watch Perlman's Masterclass and <em>practise</em>," Eddy emphasised on their most famous brand slogan and chuckled lightly, "whatever that means."</p><p>"Damn, we're such bad examples." Brett's voice fluttered, and Eddy could almost visualise Brett's curved, smiley lips.</p><p>"Well, no one needs to know about us not practising for a month straight after that hellish graduation project of ours, right? Our journey to Japan after my graduation means that you've had two months of not practising adding up - after your graduation project and mine. Respectively. SO bad." Eddy chuckled even more. Bringing up old memories is always painfully amusing, and they do have a lot of amusement like that, since they've spent half of their lifetime together.</p><p>"Okay, okay - keep that private and we'll be alright. Though I have been practising, for real, today," Brett said cheerily, hearing Eddy's clapping noises coming from the other side, "<em>Kreutzer.</em> Quite a classic adventure."</p><p>"Wooo, <em>Beethoven</em>," Eddy laughed, "Seems the legend is true then - <em>quarantine makes practice the new entertainment</em>."</p><p>"How about you? Anything exciting at the moment?"</p><p>"I was actually looking at pop music and thinking about adapting them into classical music like what we've done with <em>Say So</em> and <em>Billie Eilish</em>, but then, we'd need to wait it out before we can play in quartets or even trios again." Eddy paused, letting out a long sigh, "Segregations containing more than two people is somewhat illegal now."</p><p>Brett fell silent for a bit on the other side.</p><p>"How many videos have we filmed that are still in post-production?" Brett asked.</p><p>"I think...we've still got 9 or 10 in storage. We're safe, for now, don't worry. Just don't go out unless you really have to. The outbreak is getting pretty serious. 21 people have died, and it is only going to get worse."</p><p>"Yeah?" Brett's voice raised a little bit, "I haven't been really paying that much attention to it up until last week."</p><p>"I've been looking into it ever since the Australian national cases surpassed a thousand. Not only washing your hands, remember to disinfect your phone and your keys regularly as well. Always wear a face mask and disposable gloves when you go to the supermarket. And if any of those supplies run out at yours, I've got spare ones that you can use."</p><p>"...right." Brett sounded a bit speechless in the face of Eddy <em>"the natural caretaker"</em> Chen, but being more careful never causes harm. Plus, these words coming from Eddy, he's <em>sold</em>.</p><p>"But then, even commuting between our places are becoming more and more lethal as well. So we'd need to think ahead..." Eddy said, in a concerned tone, "do you need anything?"</p><p>"I'm still good, so far. Though we'd still need to upload at a regular schedule, say, at least once in two days after the next <em>'batch'</em>," Brett nearly dropped his phone while trying to do air quotes, "of video are all released."</p><p>"We've still got about 15 days to figure that out. If we were to do this," Eddy didn't even finish the sentence before Brett cutting in, with his dead-on-the-inside, having-no-choice voice:</p><p>"...we will have to do what we did 5 days ago, aGAIN."</p><p>"Yes." Both of them sighed loudly, looking up at the ceiling with unpleasant flashbacks.</p><p>"Thanks for sticking with my paranoia last time though," Eddy added, almost apologetically, "I know it didn't seem that serious by then."</p><p>"Nah, we should have been paranoid now looking back on it," Brett said, reasonably, "I wasn't paranoid enough, and it seems that we actually have no idea what the next 15 days will bring to us."</p><p>"Welcome to the apocalypse of 2020. Ha."</p><p>Brett can almost hear Eddy's wryly smile on the other side, and he couldn't help but forcing out the same expression with his already-dead-inside face.</p><p>"So," Brett paused briefly before speaking again, "we've got two options. One is that we choose an absolutely cursed day in the next few days or so and film 10 videos in a roll...if I'd still be able to go out by then."</p><p>"Uh-huh?" Eddy was intrigued.</p><p>"The other option is that we move in together and pace it reasonably, like what we've done in Singapore," Brett said matter-of-factly, the stillness and firmness in his voice really does not communicate his inner feelings at all.</p><p>While on Eddy's side, he imaginably and knowingly fluctuated. They were roommates for nearly three months in Singapore, and this time, knowing the nature of this epidemic, it'll be longer still.</p><p>"Yeah you're probably right," Eddy silently inhaled, trying to sound as casual and effortless as Brett, "given that we both have a spare bedroom in our respective apartment, am I moving to yours or are you moving to mine?"</p><p>"Maybe to yours," Brett exhaled, lively, "my disinfectant is running out within a week, but you sound like you've got an arsenal."</p><p>"Alright then. When are you planning on coming here?"</p><p>"Maybe tomorrow afternoon. I'd need tonight and tomorrow morning to pack and sorting out the bills."</p><p>"Cool. Good luck with the move then! Don't forget to tumble dry your clothes after washing them before you pack them in!"</p><p>"Haha, of course. Bye!"</p><p>That was a very informative phone call - Eddy thought after hanging up the phone - far more informative than he'd anticipated. Started with uploading videos of them playing Piano Tiles and ended up with <em>Brett moving to his</em>.</p><p>What about the rent?</p><p>Oh wait, they'd be saving up on rent if they move into one place.</p><p>And they can get more grocery back from the supermarket in one go, with the power of two out-of-shape musicians instead of one. They'd be able to motivate each other practising, or procrastinating, by choice. They can come up with more ideas for the video in their own time instead of rushing and getting everything done in one single day...</p><p>Eddy had to admit - imagining all these moments (and knowing that they'll come true one by one) with Brett is too idealistic and uplifting that he couldn't help but feeling dizzy.</p><p>The clock is pointing at 8 o'clock already: the afternoon flowed away imperceptibly along with his conversation with Brett. The Masterclass that he was planning to watch didn't stand a chance in the face of this 3-hour-long phone call. Eddy decided to tidy up the apartment first before taking a shower. If he'd still have the strength to be educated after that, he'd definitely watch that Masterclass of Itzhak Perlman.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. In My Feelings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Needless to say, Itzhak Perlman didn't happen. Cleaning the apartment somehow took 2 hours, and after Eddy procrastinated and took that said shower, it was already midnight.</p><p>Eddy ruffled his semi-damp hair, turned off the light and went into bed.</p><p>Staring at the ceiling in complete darkness, Eddy suddenly realised that, technically, cohabiting isn't new for either of them at all. They'd been on world tours twice and travelling internationally on their vacations, not to mention sharing an apartment in Singapore not so long ago. They'd witnessed each other packing scruffily together, 6 am in the morning, to catch that 9 am plane.</p><p>To push this even further: they'd already shared a bed - of course they have - they've known each other for 15 years. They've had high school sleepovers on each other's small double beds together when they were still living with their parents. They've had drunken party nights at Uni: leaning on each other at 2 am, tumbling through the dormitory door and flopping themselves onto the bed in the most awkward positions; they'd wake up at noon the next day next to each other in total confusion, especially for the person (usually Brett) who wakes up in someone else's ensuite. Further still, Eddy realised that them sharing a bed was even not <em>that</em> long ago: when that one price-friendly hotel only have double beds, <em>they'd actually take it.</em></p><p>They are always close, sure, but they've also been <em>intimate</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Why hasn't Eddy ever looked at all these from this perspective?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or, why did he choose to normalise these moments of intimacy as if they meant nothing other than friendship, or as if they've never happened at all?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How did Brett feel about them?</em>
</p><p>...</p><p>Eddy gradually fell asleep while thinking that.</p><p>He slept until 10. After he woke up, Eddy couldn't clearly remember all the thoughts that he dwelled upon the night before. Yet, he was still fidgeting with anticipation, somehow.</p><p>Walking around his tidy apartment that is even a bit unfamiliar, Eddy didn't know why he took such extreme measures cleaning it. Why did he even bother, since they've already seen the worst of each other during their busking days, when they literally slept on the street for a week?</p><p><em>Knowing how much they've already cohabited together - is that the reason why Brett suggested moving in together so casually over the phone yesterday?</em> Eddy pondered with no avail.</p><p>Brett is the kind of person who, according to Eddy's standard, doesn't express his feelings enough. He'd laugh at memes and sometimes get shaky bows on stage, of course, but that's about it.</p><p>Brett is mostly impassive, Eddy concluded - when Brett is stressed or sad (which doesn't happen so often), he'd deal with it internally. Eddy could sense that grey cloud shrouding around Brett's figure when something is going on. If Eddy asks him about it, he would just express it in a sentence containing 30 words and fell to silence.</p><p>Sometimes, Brett would hide away by himself for a few hours (or, say, a day or two), then coming up to Eddy completely healed. Sometimes, Eddy would suggest doses of gaming or bubble tea, and he <em>might</em> see Brett's grey cloud gradually diluting in the presence of him.</p><p>Yet, it couldn't change the fact that talking it out doesn't seem to be Brett's outlet when something goes wrong. Brett is not into expressing his feelings in extensive, drawn-out passages. </p><p>Instead, Brett is <em>concise, brief, methodical, disciplined, focused and sharp</em>. Everything that Eddy admires.</p><p>Talking of which, Eddy often thought his own sentimentality is a bit redundant. He cries at movies; he couldn't handle break-ups and heartbreaks very well; his performance anxiety would escalate to an immeasurable level when he goes on stage at Uni, because it was a conglomeration of his innate nervousness, his fear of being nervous and his dread of being found out, in front of a thousand people, that he was nervous.</p><p>If hours in the practice room always goes to dust every time you step on stage, what is the point? You'd never properly perform. Your parents, while trying to be a little bit friendly, would still probably say "I told you so" regarding your wrong career choice. Worse still, they don't even really have to say it: you can tell how disappointed they are from the way they look at you.</p><p>Anyone would have felt defeated and shattered at this point. Unfortunately, it was about 3 times worse for the 21-year-old, hypersensitive Eddy. It crushed him to the point that he needed a whole year of talking therapy during his final year. Balancing his studying and therapy sessions felt like the little mermaid walking on knives, and Brett wasn't there - he'd already graduated and got a job in another city.</p><p>Eddy's memory of Uni is, therefore, very conflicted. A lot of good things happened, but it's still a scar that would only gradually heal in time.</p><p>Brett was one of those people, the major one, actually, that helped to piece Eddy together. They went through their awkward phases together; they'd always hang out in two so that they'd always have each other no matter what happens. Brett didn't have flawless lecture notes because, unlike Eddy, who'd try to nail too many things at once maybe a bit too often (according to himself), Brett was almost always focused on practising. Yet, Brett did have the exam questions that he got from last year, which alleviated some pressure from Eddy's shoulders.</p><p>Unlike all those soloist fake stories emphasising on the healing power within music, music, for Eddy, was the problem. Music was always demanding and out of reach. Music couldn't have cut it. If anything, it was Brett who had the healing power, and brought music back to him.</p><p>Such sheer and innocent togetherness got them through.</p><p>Now they can recurrently joke about the pressure that their parents exerted on them; they're capable of making a TIk Tok parody of their stage fright, because they've finally, mostly grown out of it.</p><p>This togetherness has only intensified after the birth of Two Set Violin. <em>Bretty Bang Show</em> plus <em>Eddy Chen Violin</em>, who would have thought that 1+1 actually equals to infinity?</p><p>
  <em>They are marching towards a future where they're almost inseparable.</em>
</p><p>...</p><p>Just when Eddy was immersed in their collective memories, the bell rang.</p><p>It was Brett.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Prelude to Togetherness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brett was standing outside when Eddy opened the door. He, as instructed, did wear a face mask and disposable gloves.</p><p>"Hey, Eddy!" Brett beamed. He seemed very lively that day.</p><p>"Welcome." Eddy stepped outside and helped Brett with his giant suitcase that followed him.</p><p>"Whoa, you've cleaned up your apartment!" Brett noticed the change as soon as he stepped in, "where are all your snacks then, since they're no longer scattered on the tea table?"</p><p>"Ah, I've relocated them into the cupboard."</p><p>Eddy lead Brett to his guest room, where Brett would probably stay semi-indefinitely.</p><p>Eddy's place is mostly white, grey and beige. The shutters are white in the living room, yet the colour of the walls and curtains are light beige in the bedrooms. The wooden floor along with all the cupboards and wardrobes are in the shades of darker beige. The couch and the sound panels are grey; so are the quilted bed covers.</p><p>Eddy's place has that modern aesthetic, yet it is also tender and somehow reserved. Brett secretly adores it.</p><p>It didn't take too long for Brett to familiarise with Eddy's place again. They've spent so many memorable hours here together, filming or otherwise.</p><p>Dragging his suitcase into his room, Brett saw a giant world map stretching across the bedroom wall. Large decorative stickers of continents were pasted onto the wall piece by piece, fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. (It must have taken at least 2 hours to put it up, Brett thought) It is in the shade of light coca, the colour of which matched perfectly with the beige-coloured wall. It wasn't here when Brett last visited.</p><p>Brett looked closer, and discovered that Eddy marked every city that he'd been to with tiny sticky dots: Taipei, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Helsinki, London, Munich, Toronto, Vancouver, Atlanta, Boston, Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco, Seattle, Washington D.C...</p><p>Melbourne, Perth, Sydney, <em>Brisbane</em>.</p><p>There are places that Eddy visited without Brett, of course, but fitting them all onto a single map, it feels like TwoSet history on visual display. So many collective memories throughout the years. Together, they've achieved so much.</p><p>
  <em>Did Eddy feel the same when sticking all the tiny dots onto them?</em>
</p><p>"When did you get this?" Brett asked absentmindedly, still distracted by how they were always by each other's side after all these times. They don't dwell on their "fame"; more precisely, they don't even think about it that much - but it is pretty unbelievable when they think deeper about how much they've been through.</p><p>"Oh, the world map? I got it from Etsy, three day -ish ago," Eddy answered from the living room, "the violin accessories on there are pretty suspicious, but it can be quite OG when it comes to art."</p><p>"Nice," Brett said, dreamily.</p><p>"Oh, and," Eddy leaned his head in from the door frame, "I've bought a bag of tapioca and a can of cream, which means that," he looked at Brett with a radiant smile, "if all the takeaway bubble tea stores are closed around our vicinity and/or we're bored, <em>we can make bubble tea for ourselves!</em>"</p><p>Oh, Eddy, Brett thought, <em>just about nothing could stifle his romantic flair</em>, not even a pandemic.</p><p>"Enjoy your stay, Mr Yang. I'll leave you with your unpacking." Eddy smiled again and wandered off to his room, leaving Brett slightly dazed.</p><p>Eddy looked so effulgent in that 3pm sunlight.</p><p>---</p><p>Thus, our most beloved comic violinists, Brett Yang and Eddy Chen, began their life of living together.</p><p><em>On the 1st day of them living together,</em> they'd still change into proper clothes, going to the living room at half nine for a cup of coffee and toast. They practised for two hours in their respective room, had lunch, and, seeing that time really pass slower during the quarantine, they played some smash bros on the couch. After that, they've reviewed and published a new video; they've scrolled on social media excavating for new ideas and went to bed at a roughly appropriate time.</p><p> </p><p><em>On the 3rd day of them living together</em>, they still didn't start filming new videos as they originally planned. They didn't even, for god sake, list any ideas down. They were just living their life, reviewing and posting videos after hearing back from editor-san.</p><p>"We've got two videos involving Hilary Hahn on our page," when Eddy brought up this concern of his, Brett replied, "they'll take ages to digest for the audience. We're safe, just chill."</p><p>They discovered that, as Eddy previously imagined, living together is just <em>nice</em>. Unlike their trip to Singapore, where they more or less had solid plans, now they just wake up, open up the curtains and begin living. Eddy attempted at cooking (it didn't burn and came out alright), while Brett started digging Eddy's bookshelf, including <em>Civilisation and Its Discontents</em> by Sigmund Freud.</p><p>"<em>Most people do not really want freedom, because freedom involves responsibility, and most people are frightened of responsibility.</em>" - Is this why I'm feeling so relieved right now in quarantine, with no freedom of going out and, so far, no responsibility to fulfil?</p><p><em>How intriguing</em>, Brett thought.</p><p> </p><p><em>On the 5th day of them living together</em>, they tried making bubble tea, and gloriously failed twice when they were trying out different recipes. Instead of eating in the dining table, they've regressed to eating in beds. More interestingly, when either of them hears a burst of laughter coming from the other bedroom, they'd grab their breakfast plate and join the other party for the fun, be it hilarious videos or memes.</p><p>Eddy's great management skills are well-suited for apocalyptic situations, and they've still got plenty of food in the fridge. Their life became so peaceful that they nearly forgot the existence of a pandemic, and decided that their bins and shopping lists can still wait for another week.</p><p> </p><p><em>On the 7th day of them living together</em>, they'd given up on getting ready. Since it's still quite warm in Brisbane, they can just wander around in the apartment all day wearing only pyjamas. They'd even given up on changing into jeans, because even the most comfortable pair of jeans couldn't compare with their soft pyjama trousers.</p><p>They started to lose track of days as well, because their sleeping schedule already became 3 to 11. Eddy is an introvert, and Brett, an introverted extrovert, they weren't particularly worried about not being able to go out at all.</p><p>Instead of using their tables, their own, unmade beds had become their working area, or, shall we say, doing-nothing area. They'd start from finding inspiration of their new videos, ending up in senseless meme pages or watching an entire Ghibli film from beginning to end. As soon as Brett hears that signature melancholic piano at the beginning of any Ghibli film, he'd walk into Eddy's room without knocking, and sit beside Eddy on the bed, from start to finish.</p><p>Their apartment wasn't trashed yet, because the only thing that they use was their beds and the kitchen, where the plates began to stack up a little bit.</p><p>On a side note, <em>they're still not filming</em>. They'd update their Tik Tok in real-time, but that's about it.</p><p>In the chasm of Eddy's wakefulness and sleepiness, Eddy would stare at the ceiling and wonder if "video-making" was an excuse that Brett came up to just hang out with him more.</p><p> </p><p><em>On the 10th day of them living together</em> (or, is it?), they finally realised that they should probably go back to work again. Luckily, even when they're too cosy to come up with ideas, their fans are almost always creative. Therefore, they went onto the most talented subreddit ever and began filming a new episode of Ling Ling 40 Hours meme review.</p><p>
  <em>Lights, camera, action.</em>
</p><p>While the pandemic keeps raging on out there, Brett and Eddy are safe and well in their cosy little bubble, beaming their love to every corner of the world.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>--------------</p><p>Welcome to the End Notes~</p><p>Here are some pictures I found that would capture my imagination of Eddy's place:</p><p><br/>
<span class="u">The kitchen and the bathroom:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u">the living room (somewhat 70% accurate plus what we've seen in the video)</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span class="u">Their bedroom (more or less a combination of these two pictures, the bed would definitely be smaller tho xD):</span>
</p><p> </p><p>(All pictures are from: <span class="u">https://www.pragueresidences.com/en/Six-Continents/One-Bedroom-Apartment-Australia/</span>)</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Again, thanks for reading thus far! Your kudos and comments make me feel so invigorated &lt;3</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. In-between Movements</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Right, there you go guys. Please accent the like button; <em>legato</em> the subscribe button, and <em>Go Practice</em>!"</p>
<p>Eddy stood up, extending his arm to turn off the camera. "Nice, that's it done. We can have a day off tomorrow now." Looking around their apartment, "having a day off" have finally done it for them - they now have no more excuses for not cleaning their apartment for 10 days and counting.</p>
<p>Bins, laundry and grocery, plus some general tidying.</p>
<p>"Shall we put some music on while doing housework?"</p>
<p>"How about," Brett beamed out his cutesy evil smile, "Nel cor più non mi sento?"</p>
<p>"Then our shattered self-esteem would stop us from cleaning all together; we'd basically huddle up on the couch contemplating how incompetent we are."</p>
<p>"Let's put on Mahler 2 then, simply because cleaning this place would take ages."</p>
<p>Mahler's No. 2 Symphony is, perhaps, not the most perfect choice for apartment cleaning. It has so much twists and turns even in the first movement. One simply cannot do domestic chores while experiencing musical climaxes one after the other.</p>
<p>"Okay, now it feels like the demon is chasing after us for not cleaning our apartment and the whole world is coming to an end due to our sloppy mistakes," Brett remarked while wiping the table.</p>
<p>Eddy nodded in agreement, quickening his pace of floor sweeping for the cause of preventing an apocalypse, "I guess Mahler 2 was called 'Resurrection' for a reason".</p>
<p>"Now we're in Star Wars and dodging laser beams, pew pew pew," with a mop in hand, Brett jumped around with it as if it was a lightsaber.</p>
<p>
  <strike>
    <em>(seriously, how old are they?)</em>
  </strike>
</p>
<p>They persisted in cleaning while listening to this grandiose symphony, and, in between vigorous headbangs and feigned conducting, they managed to clear out five bags of trash. Meanwhile, the stoves were wiped clean, and so was the tea table and the floor. Putting all their clothes (that's been piling up on the chairs over the week) and beddings into the washing machine, they headed out to the grocery store while letting the machine does its work.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Going out wearing face masks during these trying times wasn't safe at all for any Asian-looking faces. Reports of hate crimes and violence appeared on local news only but several weeks ago. Luckily, the public venues were more or less empty ever since the lockdown, including the supermarket.</p>
<p>"Milk, eggs, and butter," Eddy mumbled with a Chopin Liszt at hand while putting more things in the trolley, "fresh vegetables, instant noodles, more rice, fruits, hmmm, maybe a watermelon."</p>
<p>"Hey, we actually filmed that Classical Soundtrack video in this place," Brett suddenly noted when they got around to the vegetable section.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Eddy responded while smiling with nostalgia, "we waltzed Blue Danube carrying veggies. Everyone starred."</p>
<p>They exchanged a knowing smile.</p>
<p>"Woo, we should buy some drinks. It's been ages," walking around the alcohol section, Brett suggested.</p>
<p>"Seriously? I thought bubble tea is enough for you." Knowing how intolerant Brett is for alcohol, Eddy raised an eyebrow in doubt. Though, he still grabbed several bottles of cider, along with a bottle of Russian Standard vodka.</p>
<p>"Right. Now we only need to buy some fizzy drinks, just in case we're ambitious enough to open up that vodka."</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Two out-of-shape musicians spent a solid three hours in total to get all their groceries back. By the time that they got home, the washing was long done. Dumping all their laundry into the tumble dryer and putting all the groceries away have finally drained these two. After that, they simply spread out on the sofa to recover from the tiredness.</p>
<p>"Hey, do you wanna watch Itzhak Perlman's Masterclass while we do nothing?" after at least half an hour of paralysis, Eddy asked.</p>
<p>"Nah. My hands are still weak from carrying the shopping bags and my brain doesn't seem to be working."</p>
<p>"Fair enough." Eddy sighed, saying sorry to Itzhak Perlman inaudibly for not watching him twice in a roll.</p>
<p>"Maybe we should get drunk instead, and see if we can actually dance to classical music while drinking."</p>
<p>"Alright then, since we've actually bought drinks," Eddy answered casually; his heart somehow accelerated without his permission: "if our channel ever fails due to some unthinkable reasons, we can just open a local classical music disco bar."</p>
<p>"Classical music disco bar, test 101."</p>
<p>It was already half 8 in the evening. Brett took out Eddy's Bluetooth music player while Eddy dimmed the lights in the living room. Two bottles of cider were opened, and they grabbed one each. Brett put on <strong>Wieniawski Violin Concerto no. 2 in D minor</strong>, and with the melodious opening, the glass cider bottles made a crisp clink.</p>
<p>"Cheers to...I don't know, world peace?"</p>
<p>"Haha, damn. Fine. Only the world is on fire right now." Brett mused with his usual dark humour.</p>
<p>They sat down on the couch while the twists and turns of the music gradually filled the room. Fingering the note patterns on the cider bottle, they drank and vibed vigorously. When the concerto proceeded to the second movement "Romance", their first bottle of cider had almost already disappeared down their throat. A tingling sensation rushed upwards to Eddy's temples; everything smelt like passion fruit and strawberry.</p>
<p>"I've always liked the second movement," Brett said softly while waving his right hand in the air, pretending to be the conductor, "It's so syrupy and gentle."</p>
<p>"Yeah. Almost like the cider that we just had. It's been so long since we played this piece." Eddy looked into Brett's eyes, who gazed back with the same candidness. Time almost coagulated in that metaphysical moment; there were only both of them, drifting in the dewy tenderness of music. Neither of them dared to break the gaze. For a split second, Eddy thought they were going to kiss, until ...</p>
<p>The third movement of the concerto came soon enough, breaking the momentary spell with rapid string crossings. Brett shifted his gaze to the fridge, stood up and grabbed some more drinks. He returned with some snacks, and two mugs of drinks containing ice, diet coke and vodka.</p>
<p>"You only live once, huh?" Eddy mused, "how about some Brahms to go with that?" Eddy sipped the drink that Brett just made (damn, Eddy thought, the mugs were way too big for drinking alcohol, and that's some sacrilegious amount of vodka in one drink), and put on <strong>Brahms' Symphony No. 3 in F major</strong>. No. 4 in E major would automatically - Eddy's favourite among them all.</p>
<p>After a few swallows of the drink, the power of vodka soon turned the room blurry. Both of them started nodding, swaying and conducting to the music more staggeringly. Brett's too lightweight to drink and too inexperienced to make drinks, Eddy thought, and who knows what this night will take them thanks to Brett, who's ... apparently already slouching on the couch. In this shared daze between them, Brahms sounded even more resonant and aqueous. Time flowed one movement after the other, and centimetres of their drinks steadily disappeared, one unit after the next.</p>
<p>"Didn't know you are this ambitious for drinking," Eddy randomly remarked, feeling lightheaded but more unrestrained.</p>
<p>"Well, YOLO, haha," Brett muttered, constructing long sentences with his best effort, "and I know you won't laugh if I get wasted. Been wanting ... to toe around being ... off-limit for a while now."</p>
<p>"Yeah. Brahms does become even juicier after some alcohol. Though it isn't disco material for sure."</p>
<p>"Classical disco bar can just ... be an alcoholic concert where people lie down and ... enjoy themselves?" Brett murmured, tilting towards Eddy in his drunkenness until he landed on Eddy's shoulder completely. Eddy didn't move, letting Brett sank into him however much he wished.</p>
<p>It's the third movement of Brahms' No. 3; the recurrent melancholic theme struck Eddy as always. Eddy wasn't sure if Brett felt the same, but it's been so long since they'd enjoyed themselves like this.</p>
<p>"Who said we're not having good times during the pandemic?" Eddy bent down his head and whispered in his ear. Two introverts can have their own parties just like these extroverts.</p>
<p>"Why~are you whispering?" Brett gazed upward from Eddy's shoulder, clearly way more florid than he usually is, "There's only two of us here, you know."</p>
<p>Brett smiled in such a relaxed, bewildered way that seized Eddy's heart. Partially, Eddy knew that Brett was already drunk and needed to be taken care of; but the other part of himself just wanted to get closer to him, or toeing around something that he'd never dare to do when both of them are sober. Eddy despised himself for even thinking of taking advantage of Brett, but, at the same time, the tingles within his heart demanded him to do something, whatever that is.</p>
<p>Slowly, he reached out his right hand. Going past Brett's shoulder, Eddy extended his fingertips and caressed Brett's jawline ever so gently. Brett was impassive to his touch, still leaning against him while holding the remaining 1/7 vodka coke left in his mug.</p>
<p>With the upbeat staccatos of Brahms No. 4 towards the end of the first movement, Eddy became more daring. He briskly downed the last mouthful of the drink, and started to stroke Brett's cheek. Eddy's touches soon spread to Brett's delicate neck, collarbones and right shoulder. Brett is so slender, Eddy thought, while drawing circles on Brett's bare skin - softened by his light sweat, its smoothness almost made Eddy shiver.</p>
<p>Brett, being totally cooperative or simply drunk, snuggled even closer to Eddy as if leaning into his touch. Apart from suddenly sitting straight up and chugging the remains of his drink (giving Eddy a heart attack, of course) when Eddy tried to take his mug, he kept sinking into Eddy in the most naturalistic manner.</p>
<p>Okay, Brett's totally down, Eddy thought, time to call it a night. Only feeling half sober and supporting a partially unconscious Brett on his shoulder, Eddy enjoyed the remaining Brahms' No. 4 all the same. After that, he turned off the music, half-carried and half-dragged Brett into the bedroom.</p>
<p>After helping Brett onto his bed and pulling the duvet over him, Eddy suddenly felt too tired to move as well. He let himself fall onto the duvet right beside Brett, and, almost immediately, Eddy was readily asleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dear readers (if there are still any left),</p>
<p>I'm back! Thank you for all the lovely comments, and I'm sorry for not updating for nearly a year! Hope you've enjoyed this new chapter (that's twice as long comparing to previous ones to make up for the hiatus &gt;&lt;) and that you're doing well in these trying times. I promise I'll try to write again whenever I can &lt;3</p>
<p>By the way, I highly recommend the pieces that I mentioned in this chapter - check them out if you haven't already!</p>
<p>xoxo,<br/>Mione</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Debussy et al.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The morning after was absolutely horrifying. Eddy woke up first, not only discovering that it was already 11 in the morning, but also found himself under the covers with Brett. He must have crept under the duvet in his sleep. With absolute caution, Eddy tried to disentangle himself from Brett, which still woke Brett up. "Damn, last night was rough," wiggling out of Eddy's embrace, Brett stretched and broke the silence first.</p><p>"...just like our college days, hey," Eddy said, guiltily.</p><p>"Oh yeah. Someone once took a picture of us sprawling on the floor unconsciously after a college party, you were holding a girl in your arms just like that." Brett turned over, facing the curtains on the other side.</p><p>A feeling of horror flared across Eddy - he's now wide awake. Does Brett...know? Already? All along? Does he remember the touch, the leaning, or the unusually sensual Brahms?</p><p>Eddy couldn't tell.</p><p>"Haha. That was embarrassing," Eddy mumbled, pretending to be sleepy while starring at the ceiling.</p><p>
  <em>Maybe that wasn't a good idea after all. Maybe they shouldn't have moved in together, however inconvenient that might be. Perhaps I'm ALREADY overstepping boundaries. If things become awkward between them, they'd simultaneously lose their best friend.</em>
</p><p>Pressing a pause on TwoSet Violin wouldn't even bother Eddy that much; in fact, as astute as they are, the channel itself would still keep going - memes and professional music knowledge wouldn't betray them. Their hardcore fans might notice that there is a bit of unspeakable distance between them from a certain episode onward, but that's about it.</p><p>
  <em>However, if he and Brett never go back to being natural and candid towards each other, it would feel like their </em>
  <b>
    <em>entire personal history</em>
  </b>
  <em> turning its back on them. The idea of it alone makes Eddy freeze. It is something too scary to imagine.</em>
</p><p>Just as Eddy was lying there pondering, Brett stretched again and got up, reaching for his glasses on the bedside table, "I'm gonna take a shower. We are technically taking a break today, though I think we can still process some videos." He got out from the duvet in the most usual, naturalistic manner as if nothing had happened.</p><p>"Sure. After you." For a second, Eddy really felt stupid for his tale-tell heart. He turned over under the duvet, reached for his phone and began to look at memes. When Brett returned from the bathroom, Eddy was still curled in the same position with his phone in hand.</p><p>Seeing Brett in a towel with damp hair and exposed skin clearly didn't help. Strange, after going on tour with this person countless times and witnessing him coming out from the shower for at least a hundred times, Eddy felt the alleged butterflies in his stomach <em>*almost*</em> for the first time. While Brett was drying his hair using the towel, Eddy cautiously dashed to the bathroom, just in case Brett asks him if anything was wrong. Eddy knew that Brett would detect the unusualness just by glancing at his facial expressions.</p><p>---</p><p>Several thousands of pounding heartbeats later, Eddy and Brett had some brunch and finished scheduling their videos for the next several days. Yet, when Brett asked Eddy if he wanted to watch a film or play some video games for the night, Eddy proposed to practise by himself instead.</p><p>Eddy needed space to process his actions and feelings. He needed a distraction, a retreat. Plus, truth to be told, he hadn't been very diligent in finessing his craft for the past few days.</p><p>At the end of the day, it's just a musician and his violin.</p><p>After Eddy stepped into his room and took out his violin, he heard that Brett in the other bedroom also started to tune. He turned to face the wall, trying to block out Brett's existence. Eddy took out his iPad, found that folder called <em>Debussy</em> and began to play. He should have started with the scales first, but a desperate overload of feelings called for desperate measures.</p><p>Debussy didn't write much for the violin, but that didn't stop Eddy from loving and playing him. Eddy started with the classic <em>Clair de Lune</em>, channelling his obscured frustration into the mellow vibratos and gentle strings crossings. The melody still sends chills up Eddy's spine until this day. After playing it a few times, he proceeded to <em>A Girl With Flaxen Hair</em> - David Oistrakh played this arrangement ever so wonderfully; the tone quality is so vibrant and luscious despite being recorded in 1972. Eddy then tried out both of the <em>Arabesques</em>, feeling the trills brimming from his gentle fingertips. <em>Beau Soir</em> was also a short, melodious arrangement, he remembered watching Janine Jansen playing it on YouTube with Brett...</p><p>
  <em>No. Not Brett, not now.</em>
</p><p>Eddy's bowing quivered, fracturing Debussy's perfect melody. Debussy's pieces are always like that, Eddy thought, elegant, luminous, timeless, but also has a flicker of melancholy hiding behind every passage. It is the musical equivalent of raindrops falling on the windowpane, fireflies drifting around the lake at an ephemeral summer night, or the reflection of shimmering stars in the river, just like Van Gogh's<em>Starry Night Over the Rhone</em>.</p><p>After some basic double stop and scale practises, Eddy was more or less prepared to tackle Debussy's Sonata for violin and piano in G minor. He's going to call it a day after this.</p><p>Putting one AirPod on for the piano accompaniment, Eddy started with the piece. All those vigorous high notes perfectly encapsulated his frustration and ambivalence. He channelled all his entangled feelings through the heartrending vibratos and glissandos, regardless if it's out-of-tune or not. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to immerse in the rise and fall of Debussy's violin sonata - he'd listened to and played it for countless times to the extent of remembering every awkward page turn by heart.</p><p>Before he could realise, he'd already reached the third movement. He noted down in mind some of the places that he could work on for the next practise session while feeling totally prepared for the rapid string crossings and persistent trills in the finale. Just as he was ready to embrace the euphoric sense of achievement by ending this piece on its powerful four-note chord...</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>His damn E string snapped.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>...seemed like that high C really did it to his 20-year-old violin.</p><p>
  <em>The universe took his coping mechanism from him just before he could feel considerably better.</em>
</p><p>The piano accompaniment still plays restlessly in his AirPod, which he lividly took off and threw, half-carefully, onto his bed, along with himself.</p><p>Oh...boy. Now, this is just brutal.</p><p>Brett's faint playing still permeates through the door and the walls; sounds that he tried to ignore but also couldn't. Rationally, he knows it's just a string snap after a particularly emotional day - ONLY IF his rationality is still working.</p><p>Betrayed, ridiculed, powerless...thousands of emotions filled Eddy by the second that his head hit the pillow, and later splashed out of his eyes. He quietly started sobbing, which was surprisingly cathartic.</p><p>In-between his breathing and wiping his eyes clumsily, he'd noticed that Brett's playing had also stopped. He heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching from the other side of the apartment right outside his doorstep, and it stopped there.</p><p>The person standing outside seem to be observing, but only using his ears. Eddy silently drew a deep breath, and waited.</p><p>After a solid two minutes or so, a hesitant knock finally came from the door.</p><p>"Yeah?" Eddy responded cheerily, though his voice was somewhat throaty from all the sobbing.</p><p>"Eddy, are you okay?" Brett inquired, gently.</p><p>"Mmhmm, I've done my practice and I'm just chilling," Eddy turned himself over on the bed, responding as if everything went smoothly, "though I snapped my E string by playing Debussy's violin sonata. Right at the final note too, haha."</p><p>"Oh...?" Brett was still gazing down at Eddy with slight suspicion.</p><p>"Yeah. I'm fine." Eddy got up, picking up the violin that lies (dangerously) on his bed beside him, and started to fix his strings. With his head down, Eddy can still feel Brett's burning gaze following his movement.</p><p><em>Damn it, Brett,</em> Eddy thought, <em>my alleged day off really started with me feeling guilty about overstepping boundaries, proceeded with unknown feelings bottling up in my heart, and ending up with me getting my E string snapped when I needed the cathartic power of music the most.</em></p><p>
  <em>And now, you are starring at me changing strings and causing even more angst. How am I supposed to </em>
  <b>
    <em>not</em>
  </b>
  <em> have insomnia after this???</em>
</p><p>"Do you want a hug?" Brett suddenly blurted.</p><p>Eddy looked up, shooting a perplexed look towards Brett while handling the peg with the new E string. He didn't answer.</p><p>"I don't know. I feel like that you need one, for whatever reason," Brett added, looking earnestly at Eddy, "I feel things too, you know. It's just that I was born with a not-so-expressive face."</p><p>As if to demonstrate how inflexible his facial muscle was, Brett held out his face and intentionally pulled his cheeks about. His awkward facial expression teased out a very dry, temporary laugh from Eddy.</p><p>"At least the fans always emphasise on my deadpan face, I might as well just take it."</p><p>Eddy gazed back to Brett, speechless but eternally grateful. He played a few notes on the E string and made some final adjustments, then, he put his violin back on his bed.</p><p>"So, hug?" Eddy beamed.</p><p>"You need to put your violin back into your case first," Brett bantered, "we've filmed enough 'sitting on your violin' videos for me to not be scared for that."</p><p>
  <em>Fair enough.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Nocturne on Sentimentality</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After putting the violin back into his case as instructed by grandpa Brett, Eddy turned around, facing Brett with a tiny grin. He gazed straight into Brett's eyes. Since Brett somehow already detected Eddy's emotional fluctuations, it was okay for Eddy to be a bit more dependent and intimate with Brett at this moment.</p><p>With Eddy's impassioned gaze, something in Brett's jet-black eyes melted in response. Is it possible to feel the warmth ebbing out from a gaze?</p><p>But it must be, because...</p><p>
  <em>Eddy felt it.</em>
</p><p>At that mesmerising moment, Brett glided closer to Eddy and pulled him into a gentle embrace.</p><p>Eddy snuggled his face in-between the tip of Brett's hair and his neck. He could feel the fluctuation of Brett's chest when he breathes; the rhythm of heartbeat and Brett's body heat and slowly calmed him down.</p><p>Brett still smelt like shampoo and soap. Eddy inhaled, quietly but voraciously, holding Brett even closer.</p><p>
  <em>Brett knew that he was off and approached him with utmost deliberation; Brett also sensed that he probably wasn't ready to talk about his feelings, so he offered hugs and jokes to keep him company despite not knowing what's going on. Eddy knew how Brett is neither a "making eye contact" person nor touchy at all, but he's always so generous when it comes to providing Eddy with what he needs...</em>
</p><p>Even when Eddy was questioning he's feeling for Brett at the moment, Brett still is the anchor to Eddy's heart.</p><p>......</p><p>When they slowly pulled away from each other, it seemed like a century had already passed. Their hands lingered a bit on each other's back as they both sat on the edge of Eddy's bed.</p><p>"Do you ever feel that you're too thin-skinned for everything?" Eddy blurted, out of the blue.</p><p>"I think everyone kind of does from time to time, to be honest?"</p><p>"I'm talking about 'being 27 years old, having been playing for more than 20 years and still nearly getting a breakdown from an untimely string snap' kind of thin-skinned," Eddy sighed, gloomily.</p><p>
  <em>Since he couldn't just straight-up say "I think I kinda like you in a more than friendly way but I'm so in denial and music didn't help me enough and I think only you could help me so please please please help me" out loud in Brett's face, he managed to find some roundabout ways to hold their heartfelt conversation.</em>
</p><p>"Well, I mean, you've already managed to fix it," Brett grinned, "and right before that, your playing was beautiful."</p><p>"You heard?" Eddy asked, only realising a second later how blatantly dumb to ask that. Of course Brett had heard, or he wouldn't have commented on it.</p><p>"Mmhmm. Your Debussy was particularly emotive today. It was kind of sad, but powerful."</p><p>
  <em>Of course. Of course Brett would know. All those clumsy tale-tell signs are way too obvious for Brett's good instincts.</em>
</p><p>"Yeah ... though when I try to channel my feelings into my playing, it just sounds self-indulgent and erratic. It lacks control. No matter how much I'd enjoy the playthrough, the recording would surely sound way too amateurish ... that is, if I ever decide to record it for self-improvement or cringey purposes."</p><p>"Only it's been 5, 7 years for us to record our playings and making them into videos. So, <em>quite a while, </em>you mean," Brett smirked.</p><p>"Oh boy," Eddy covered his face with his palm, "it's even worse to think that I still hadn't acquired the power of emotive playing."</p><p>"I hadn't either," Brett said, firmly, "And honestly, I don't even think I'm going to achieve it soon. I mean, we've already chosen the path of making videos with our good-enough-for-mass-audience-but-never-soloist-level playing, and one can only do so much in 24 hours everyday."</p><p>Eddy didn't manage to find a response to that. <em>So what? Shall we just be complacent, then?</em></p><p>As if reading Eddy's mind, Brett paused, inhaled, then started again: "But incorporate feelings into your playing IS important, or else it's just MIDI with techniques. Of course, you can execute, or even manipulate, the passage however you like if you've perfected your techniques through practice. Maybe you can ignore the pain and struggles in Beethoven's music, rearranging all his notes into something weightless and breezy like Kreisler; or, maybe, you can turn something as light and romantic as Kreisler into Shostakovich..."</p><p>Brett started speaking in those extensive, drawn-out passages as if he was still doing the Bretty Bang podcast. He trailed off, imagining having perfect techniques and how that would give him the absolute power over the composer's intentions, and how deliciously sacrilegious that can be......</p><p>"But...?" Eddy interrupted Brett's daydreaming.</p><p>"But," Brett continued, corner of his eyes bending upward, "apart from what's written on the score, you're sharing your passion, emotions, experiences and your sometimes-conflicted feelings to the audience every time you play. And that, is what constitutes individuality and personal interpretations. It's musicality. And it's always worth it to develop that side of your playing."</p><p>Eddy kept starring, simply hypnotised in Brett's expressive moment.</p><p>"Thus," Brett concluded, "your ability to feel a range of things that no one else couldis <em>exactly</em> what makes you special. I mean...we're not going to be practising full-time anytime soon, obviously, but we do still make progress over the years. It's a lockdown. We've got nothing but time."</p><p>Eddy's heart leapt, "Yeah, I get it. But what about those *not productive* feelings that I'm unable to channel into music? It can be so pervasive sometimes."</p><p>"I guess that's only human. Do you think Beethoven didn't feel that? Well, if crying helps, we can always watch sad movies together. It seems to work for you."</p><p>Before Eddy even began to feel too exposed due to Brett's intimate knowledge of him, Brett immediately started to speak again, very solemnly:</p><p>
  <em>"But first, we need to practise enough."</em>
</p><p>Truth to be told, Eddy didn't know whether to melt for Brett's explicit declaration of feelings that happens only ever so occasionally, or to laugh at how Brett just retreat into his comfort zone of impassivity in the blink of an eye. While cherishing this rare moment of Brett being eloquent like a Masterclass lecturer, Eddy couldn't help but burst into pained laughter.</p><p>If this were a published video, Editor-san would literally put a fire emoji on their face to roast them for "not practising enough". </p><p>"Are we able to <em>ever</em> practise enough, though?"</p><p>Our two musicians exchanged a familiar look. This question need not to be answered, because both of them had always known that <em>the answer is <b>a solid no</b></em>.</p><p>Yet, somehow that sounded less scary when they've got each other.</p>
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